


Four for the Price of One

by randi2204



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: 3K Round-up Challenge, Bad Sex, F/M, sex hangover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7214437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been quiet in town lately, so Buck's been able to amuse himself...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four for the Price of One

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, no money, just having fun. Awful terrible fun. :D

When Buck woke up, the sun comin’ in the window said it was damn near noon.  He blinked a couple of times, wondering why he’d slept so late – why, usually, he was up well before midmorning, because Inez served the tastiest breakfast in town…

 

Then he moved under the linens, and _oh, dear Lord_ , he wished he hadn’t.

 

Every muscle in his body protested, back and legs and shoulders, letting him know that they’d been overworked the day before.

 

For just a second, he wondered if maybe that should be _worked over_ instead.  But no, he and Chris hadn’t gotten into a fistfight – hell, they hadn’t even had an argument in a dog’s age – nor had there been any trouble in town…

 

And _that_ , he realized, shifting again, was the whole problem.

 

Because when there was no trouble in town, he was free to have himself a little fun.

 

He’d never believed there’d come a time when he’d have _too_ much fun.  _Maybe that time has come,_ he thought, wincing as he eased himself upright.

 

Because, _damn_ , his dick felt like it’d had all the skin rubbed off, and he couldn’t bear to think what it’d be like if he’d hadn’t taken off _everything_ before falling onto the bed the night before.  Having it chafing against his drawers all night… He shuddered.  _It probably would have kept me up all damn night…_

 

Even sitting up to lean against the headboard was as much energy as he wanted to spend today… and as much discomfort as he wanted to go through.  He eyed the pile of his clothes on the straight-backed chair, but just the thought of his drawers rubbing against his raw prick made him quickly decide against it.

 

Even his _balls_ ached.  Felt like they were twice the normal size, too.  He tried to find a cool spot on the sheets, but no luck.

 

_John Thomas ain’t even standin’ up to give his mornin’ salute_ , he thought, taking a peek under the sheet.  That was actually cause for alarm; he’d _never_ had John Thomas not rarin’ to go…

 

_Well, I guess he was a bit tired last night with Miss Annabelle,_ Buck allowed.  _But damn, that girl’s some real talented…_

 

He took another peek.  Nothin’.

 

At that moment, the door opened, and he pulled the sheet down over his lap, then, eyes widening at the thought it might be Mrs. Morgan, who owned the boarding house, he jerked it up to cover his chest.  “Hey!” he croaked.  “I ain’t decent!”

 

But it was Chris who entered, closing the door behind himself.  “Hell, Buck, you ain’t ever been decent.”  He took in Buck, shrinking against the headboard, and his eyes twinkled with evil glee.  “‘Specially not now, I reckon.”

 

“Jesus, Chris!” He let out a breath in an angry rush. “Just come bargin’ in…”

 

“So you were gonna get up to let me in?” Chris replied, eyebrows raised, grinning like the devil.

 

Buck blushed – blushed! He could feel his face goin’ red as Ezra’s coat – and glanced away, hearing Chris chuckle as he did.

 

“Here.”  With no further warning, Chris tossed a small packet at him, and he barely caught it.  It was squishy, and when he unfolded the oilcloth, there was a paste inside that smelled like Nathan’s teas tasted.

 

“What’s this?”  He poked his finger into the paste, and it felt kinda cool and kinda warm at the same time.

 

“Told Nathan you might need… a little somethin’ this mornin’.” Chris had the evilest grin he’d ever seen.  “Seein’ as how you might’ve wore yourself out yesterday.”

 

His face went even redder.  “You…”

 

Chris leaned against the back of the chair.  “How many was it yesterday?”

 

He couldn’t stand to look at that smirk any longer, so he stared down at the paste and oilcloth.  “Four,” he muttered.  Then he snuck a glance out the corner of his eye, hoping that at least _that_ would impress Chris.

 

Instead, Chris shook his head and straightened.  “Might be time to admit you ain’t seventeen anymore, Buck,” he said, and turned toward the door.

 

Sitting there, chafing, aching, plum wore out before the day even began, for a moment, Buck thought Chris might be right.

 

The moment passed, and, grinning wide, he shook his head.  _Seventeen, hell,_ he thought.  _I can_ still _do this…_

 

Then he tried to swing his legs out of bed, and his back and legs and what was between his legs advised him to reconsider that thought.  _Well,_ he thought, dabbling his fingers in the paste again, _maybe four in one day_ was _overdoing it a little…_

**Author's Note:**

> For the [fic_promptly](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/) prompt [Magnificent 7, Buck/'x', he just couldn't do it anymore, not four times in one day . . .](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/61344.html?thread=2901664#cmt2901664).


End file.
